


Ad Usum

by nangka



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:51:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3236912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nangka/pseuds/nangka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian's been warned about Ancient Elven magic, curses, rituals, and superstitions, but he never thought one would end up making him a married man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ad Usum

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for major end game spoilers! The prompt asked for Dorian accidentally doing something that is the equivalent of a shotgun wedding due to culture clash/misunderstanding.

Even though Corypheus has been defeated and the sky is healed, not much has changed in Skyhold. The atmosphere of the place is much more positive, united, but everyone seems just as busy as before. Josephine is organizing a grand victory tour, Cullen is dealing with new recruits and organizing leave for the veterans, and Leliana is preparing to become the next Divine. Everyone is still around, saying they'll stick around for a bit more longer.  
  
Dorian still has his claim on the same old spot on the library, the only difference being there are more books on the shelves and ones waiting to be organized. He leans over the railing, reading one of the new books that came in this morning. When he looks away from the book, he half expects to see a bald elf a floor below him, possibly painting or reading. Yet Solas isn't there, but his presence, his memory, it lingers. Instead he sees another elf staring at the murals that record the early history of the Inquisition.  
  
The person that has felt the loss of Solas the most is Lavellan. Dorian knows it's a sensitive topic, and he's comforted his lover about it. Yet Lavellan hasn't fully opened up about it, and that does worry him. He doesn't want to press and push him too much, but he hopes he doesn't bottle it up too much.  
  
"Those books you asked me to order came in this morning." He says from up top, closing said book. "The one on the Ancient Elven alphabet is quite extraordinary."  
  
There's a slight delay before Lavellan responds, looking around the room before he looks up. "I ordered books?"  
  
"You did. Well, more like I ordered them for you, but details." They both smile at each other, Dorian chuckling softly to himself. "The view from here is nice and all, but care for some company?"  
  
He watches as Lavellan look at the mural and back at him. "I would like that a lot, actually."  
  
"I knew it. Your arm was looking rather unadorned." With that, Dorian goes down the stairs.  
  
They walk around Skyhold together, but it eventually leads back to Lavellan's bedroom. It isn't too hard to figure out what happens there. What Dorian doesn't expect is when he wakes up, from the nap Lavellan initiated in the first place, is an empty bed. He looks towards the balcony, seeing his lover looking out at the night sky. He already has an idea in his head; he'll sneak up behind him, place a kiss on his neck, wrap his arms around him, and whisper flirtatious words into his right ear (the right ear is more sensitive).  
  
He just puts his small clothes and a robe on before he approaches Lavellan, but a few feet before he reaches him, his lover speaks. "I think I'm ready to talk about it."  
  
When Lavellan turns around to look at him, the atmosphere changes instantly. Dorian isn't even slightly upset that he doesn't get the chance to execute his little fantasy, knowing this is very important.  
  
"I'm all ears, Amatus." He approaches him, standing beside him. "I'm glad you've decide to open up about it."  
  
He watches Lavellan's face, how he looks so uncertain and worried. He doesn't rush him, but he's tempted to ease the situation.  
  
"The voices, I asked them about Solas." So that's what has been troubling him, and Dorian had some idea the voices and Solas have something to do with it. "When I ask them about Solas, the response is even more muffled than usual, like there's even more interference than before. That's if I'm lucky, and sometimes there isn't a response at all, just silence." Lavellan looks down at his hands. "I've been trying for months, trying to figure out a way to focus. A few days after we defeated Corypheus, something changed about the voices, something happened."  
  
Dorian isn't sure what to say as Lavellan has never spoken about the voices and the whole servant of Mythal thing all that much. What Dorian does know, it has worried him. He knew back then that drinking from the Well of Sorrows was a huge risk, but he also knew he couldn't fault his lover too much for it. The Well helped them defeat Corypheus, but the cost, it was high. Lavellan did what heroes in songs and legends are supposed to do, and expecting otherwise, Dorian knew what he signed up for.  
  
"And sadly Solas isn't here, but what about Morrigan? Or that woman who claimed she is Mythal?" He remembers Lavellan explaining that to him, and he still can't believe he made it out of the Fade. Again.

"She _is_ Mythal, Dorian." Maybe he deserves that annoyed sigh he makes. "The voices confirmed it, and as for Morrigan, she promised to look into it before she left Skyhold."  
  
"We can have Leliana look into it, even-" Lavellan shakes his head. "What? I doubt she would mind helping you." Now he's becoming very concerned. " _Amatus_ , please, don't carry this burden alone. You've paid the price for the mark on your hand and the Well twice over." He tries to keep his voice assertive, but it does crack. "I don't want to lose you, not after all of this."  
  
"Dorian," he says in a reassuring tone. "I decided to open up to you about this because it's not _all_ just bad news."  
  
Dorian is genuinely surprised, perking up a bit. "Well, you could have warned me. Doing the whole, 'do you want the good or bad news first?' pitch."  
  
"I'm so used to having bad news and worse news as options." He smiles at Dorian, and that smile eases him just a bit more. "I've been having dreams of some Ancient Elven ruins, for the past week or so, but I've been unable to figure out their location."  
  
"And now?" He asks, still waiting to see if the news he hopes for is good.  
  
"The voices spoke to me while I was dreaming, telling me where they are. They were much clearer than they've been recently, even clearer than when they helped me with information on Corypheus." Lavellan doesn't look like he's finished speaking, Dorian sensing there is more.  
  
"There's more to it, isn't there?"  
  
He nods. "I think these ruins have something to do with Solas, Dorian." Lavellan looks right into his eyes, and Maker, those eyes see right through him. "I want you to go with me to these ruins, to see if there are clues about where Solas disappeared to." He feels Lavellan's right hand grasping at his left hand. "Please, Dorian."  
  
"When you put it like _that_ ," he leans closer towards him. "How could I turn you down?" He kisses on the lips, and as for a reply, Lavellan kisses him back. "Now let's go back to bed, hm? It's freezing, and I demand you warm me back up."  
  
It's less than a week before they arrive at these mysterious Ancient Elven ruins. Most of their companions got enough of Ancient Elven ruins from the Temple of Mythal incident. Cole offers to come along because, well, he wants to surprisingly _help_. Bull is hoping for another dragon fight, but sadly that doesn't happen. He's not too bummed out about it, but he's rather on edge about it all.  
  
It doesn't take long to secure the ruins, and the only things that are troublesome are the foliage and humid weather rather than any wildlife or demons. For once the only spiders they've come across are normal sized ones, can one believe it? Ever since arriving at the ruins, the voices have apparently become easier for Lavellan to understand. Dorian's not sure what that means exactly, but he's going to hope it's a good thing.  
  
Dorian is actually having quite a good time, recording and looking at the ruins. It's amazing how magic still lingers in such a place, and he's amazed at some protective wards still perfectly intact. Some of the statues and inscriptions are decently intact. While he can't understand the all the writing, he can make out a few words here and there. He can read the words out loud, terrible pronunciation and all, even if he has no idea what he's saying.  
  
He approaches one statue, clearly of Mythal, and it seems to be the most well preserved out of all the others. He tries to read the inscription, but he can only make out 'love' and 'inevitable'.  
  
"Amatus, come have a look at this." He calls over Lavellan, who isn't too far away.  
  
While Dorian looks excited to be here, Lavellan on the other hand looks more confused, even bewildered. "This statue and its inscription are remarkably intact. I can still feel some of its magic, and the writing, I can make it out quite easily."  
  
"Let's see if I can translate it for us." He starts to walk over towards Dorian, but before he reaches there, he starts reading the text to himself. He has not idea what he's saying, but it's good practice.

When Lavellan is beside him, he just finishes the last words from the inscription. He looks at him, smiling. "Impressive, isn't-" They both feel a strong surge of magic coming from the statue, so much so, he stops speaking.  
  
"What was that, Dorian? Did you do something? Touch something?" There's an actual look of concern in Lavellan's eyes, like he knows more than what he's said.  
  
"I didn't touch anything. I have restraint, you know, sometimes." He says that, but he's starting to think he might have done something. "We must have activated it, triggered it, perhaps?"  
  
"You mean you."  
  
"Well, yes. I guess this is something I should take full credit for." He crosses his arms over his chest, starting to think of what he could have triggered such an activation. Maybe something he said? His accent must not be so bad, but he still has no idea what he said. Maybe he should have thought that over, especially seeing how intact and powerful the magic at the Temple of Mythal was. "The only thing I did was recite the text on the inscription." He points to it, and that's when Lavellan turns his head to look at it.  
  
Dorian watches his lips move as he reads the text to himself, probably translating and consulting those... voices in his head for assistance. People have commented on him having a mini-library and archive in his own head, but Lavellan actually has one now or something very close to it. He's going to make a joke, something about ancient curses, but his lover's reaction looks like he's seen a ghost.  
  
"Dorian," hearing that tone, now he's starting to really believe he's just placed a cursed upon himself. "Do you feel any..." Lavellan's voice trails off, but then resumes. "... different?"  
  
"Different?" He no longer has his arms across his chest, gesturing them instead. "No, but please do warn me if I should be feeling something. If I somehow placed an Ancient Elven curse on me, you, or us, I'd like a little warning about the side effects."  
  
"Mythal judged your soul, your heart." Lavellan points to one of the lines in the inscription. "If she found you unworthy or untrue, you would be dead by now." He still feels like he's missing something, and he doesn't like that, but he'll be patient enough to let Lavellan explain things at his own pace for now.  
  
"What was the criteria of this judgement?" He's going to ask more, but Lavellan actually starts to... is he blushing?  
  
"Mythal, she had many domains, and one of them," Lavellan's voice becomes a bit more quieter, softer. "was love. She was the goddess of love to the ancient elves."  
  
"I read something about that, but why do you look like you know so much more than what you're telling me? You're doing that thing with your right eye." He watches that said eye twitch a little. " _See_."  
  
"I'm overwhelmed, I..." He rather not rush him, but seeing him in such a state isn't good for either of them.  
  
"Amatus, take your time, but don't hide anything from me. I can take it, and if it's a-"  
  
"You asked Mythal," their eyes look into each other's, Lavellan taking a deep breath in. "I think we just got married."  
  
"What? I think I heard you wrong." Married? He turns away briefly, now starting to understand why Lavellan looks so overwhelmed. When he looks back at him, he speaks again. "You didn't say married, did you? Because I'm pretty sure-"  
  
"It's the closest modern day practice I can think of, and the voices seem to agree with me."  
  
He's speechless, and suddenly it's like their entire relationship and what it means runs through his mind in a flash. He loves Lavellan, but he just started to get the hang of having an actual boyfriend and the whole committed romantic relationship. He's still rather cautious and sensitive with the topic of marriage, having a few 'bad' experiences to say the least about the subject. He never thought about the idea of getting married because marriage to him has always been about bloodlines and securing political and social power rather than love.  
  
"Dorian, I'm sorry. The voices says this process can't be undone."  
  
Sorry? Dorian shakes his head. Lavellan looks actually sad, like somehow he's hurt him. "I didn't expect to get the equivalent of married in Ancient Elven terms when I woke up this morning. If I had known, I might have worn something else."

The glare he receives from Lavellan, his lover can see right through his awkwardness pertaining to the topic of marriage. " _Dorian_ ," is all Lavellan just needs to say, his tone sounding very serious. "It's not the time for jokes. Who knows what the side effects will be."  
  
"Side effects," Dorian mutters to himself, rubbing his chin. "Well, it's not like we're currently living at the peak of Ancient Elven civilization, and the Mythal that you met, it wasn't the Mythal of that age." He's speaking and thinking out loud, trying to figure out what being married exactly means. "What I find strange and rather unnerving is the fact this ritual did not ask for your consent." It's not like the magic and love is a topic he studied back in this younger days. "We don't have do anything specific, do we? Any ritual so we don't end up as a pair of damned or dead lovers by the end of the day?"  
  
" _Dorian_ , these are still the practices and gods of my people, even if they aren't exactly what I thought they were like, I still follow and believe in them."  
  
Dorian never meant to come off belittling of such a thing, but on reflection, he now sees how his apprehensiveness has turned into flippant commentary. "I apologize, Amatus, I am just unsure of what to do or how I can help." He's rather good at reading people himself, and he knows Lavellan is either getting a huge information dump from those voices in his head or he's worried about something (probably both). "Those voices, are they bothering you?"  
  
He doesn't respond right away to Dorian's question, and when he shakes his head, it's rather slow, like he's still thinking about it. "No, it's just hard to deal with all the information at once." It's time like these he wishes Solas were here with them, and he hates the fact with all his knowledge, he still can't help him. He's spent countless hours reading and even writing to so called 'experts' in ancient elves only to come up empty handed.  
  
"About asking," when Lavellan speaks again, it pulls Dorian out of his own thoughts, and he notices a faint blush across the elf's cheeks has returned. "Mythal knows everything about me, my heart included, so she didn't need to ask."  
  
Even if Lavellan is phrasing it rather passively, Dorian gets the main idea at what he means. Yet he wants to ask, to confirm, because while that insecurity of Lavellan moving on from him is far less, it's still there at times. Yet he doesn't blame him for it, as he knows, the Inquisitor must make sacrifices, and who knows what the future holds when it comes to everything.  
  
"Mythal knows I can't picture anyone but you beside me." He doesn't know if Lavellan is good at reading him or just has luck with these things. "It was you she had to ask, and so she did."  
  
The atmosphere is heavier, but not in a bad way. When their eyes meet again, it's like they've reached a level of clarity and understanding without saying anything. He wants to fill that silence, so being used to silence being awkward or a bad thing. Before he gets the chance to ruin the moment, Lavellan gets on the tip of his toes and pulls him into a kiss. A kiss is much better at conveying their feelings.  
  
"I think that's how humans complete their marriage, isn't it?" He's asked when Lavellan breaks the kiss, their faces still close to each other.  
  
A soft, somewhat muffled laugh before he replies. "That will work. Missing a few things, but it will have to do."  
  
  
After leaving the ruins, there isn't a trace of Solas to be found. The Inquisition ends up learning more about Mythal, but Dorian knows Lavellan is disappointed. Currently his lover has been translating some texts found at the temple, something to do the Fan'Harel and his relationship with Mythal. He even finds it quite strange a section of what appears to be an ancient temple dedicated to love and unions to have a god of tricks present.  
  
These days, it's him checking up on Lavellan rather than the elf coming up with a variety excuses to go up to the library. " _Andaran atish’an_." He says, seeing the Inquisitor being very studious at his desk.  
  
"Your accent still needs a lot of work." Lavellan replies, but he doesn't look up.

"You wound me! And here I thought I would receive some words of encouragement, Amatus." He jokes, approaching the desk, and he can't help but be curious at what the other is working on.  
  
"I know you can do better," he finally looks up. "Did you need something?" It's only a few seconds after Lavellan realizes his phrasing isn't the best. "That sounded-"  
  
"It's fine, I understand." Dorian does, so he's not put off by the direct question. "Blunt, but you're a busy man. How goes the translating of those texts? Are the voices willing to cooperate with you again?" It seems as soon as they left the ruins, the voices stopped speaking to Lavellan again. For a while he blamed himself, citing the ritual he accidentally preformed, but Lavellan assured him it was a coincidence.  
  
"No, they're not, but I wasn't working on any translations at the moment." Yet Dorian can sense there is something serious.  
  
"Then I'll leave you-" he stops speaking when Lavellan gets up from his desk, no longer sitting.  
  
"Don't go," it almost sounds like he's pleading for Dorian to stay. "I've been meaning to get a moment alone with you, but it seems like every time I try, something comes up."  
  
"Something tells me being the Inquisitor has something to do with it."  
  
Making Lavellan smile, laugh, it feels good. "I had no idea, but you might be onto something."  
  
He starts to walk to the balcony, and under the doorway, he turns back, reaching his hand out. "Let's hope nothing interrupts us now." Dorian follows him, taking his hand. They hold hands, walking a short distance to the railing.  
  
"Thedas owes you a five minute break at least once a week." They're both smiling, and suddenly he remembers how Cassandra once said how he's been smiling a lot more these days. "You should have made that demand before accepting the whole Inquisitor title."  
  
"I've learned my lesson." Then Lavellan sighs, and seems their playful banter is shifting to something much more serious. "Dorian, I was reading a letter from my clan, from my Keeper."  
  
While Lavellan seems proud to be Dalish, they don't talk about the Dalish culture and his clan as much as they talk about Tevinter. In fact, Dorian has often felt compelled to ask questions since he's the one always talking about Tevinter and his own culture. Lavellan has mentioned random things, side notes, but he's still not sure what life was once like for his lover before the conclave. Dorian's lucky once in a while to get a descriptive answer that feels satisfying enough, as most responses to his questions about the Dalish are sparse compared to his lavish descriptions of Tevinter culture. Maybe he's not asking the right questions, or it could possibly be a topic Lavellan isn't sure how to discuss with humans. He remembers a few times back in Haven where Solas and Lavellan talked about elves, but that was about it. He might have caught him talking about elves with Sera or Iron Bull once or twice, but nothing too much.  
  
"I wrote to them a while back, saying I wouldn't be going back." He knows this isn't a topic that is easy to talk about, so he knows it's best to listen and be patient rather than lead the conversation. "I was afraid Keeper was going to be mad at me, that the others would wish Fan'Harel himself take me."  
  
Dorian isn't exactly surprised to hear Lavellan not returning -- an inevitable thing. Dorian has the luxury of going back to Tevinter, and while his life wouldn't be exactly the same if he were to, it would be familiar enough. Lavellan, on the other hand, so much has changed, and not all by choice. Many people in his shoes would blame others, become angry and frustrated, but Lavellan has worked through it and accepted his new path. While he isn't always sure, doubting himself, Dorian likes that about him.  
  
"I asked Keeper if I should send back my ring, but she told me to keep it, that I needed it more now than ever." Lavellan pulls his hand away, raising it up. "It's a Keeper's ring, and it feels wrong to wear it." He watches Lavellan trying to tug it off, and when he does, he holds it in the palm of his hand.  
  
"Can you tell me about the ring?" He's noticed Lavellan wearing it, taking note of it much earlier, but he assumed it was simply a sentimental trinket.  
  
"It's a long story." Dorian's not going to let him get away with that response.  
  
"I've got time." And it seems he's won, Lavellan sighing and nodding.

Lavellan tells him of the story the ring depicts, of the great betrayal by Fen'Harel and how he locked the gods away. Apparently it's a reminder, and now he understands why Lavellan's Keeper told him to keep it. Yet when he finishes telling the story, it still looks like he wants to tell Dorian something.  
  
"That's quite the story, and I remember reading something like that, but I never could have imagined the ring you wore would hold such a message and story." He's glad Lavellan's talking about Dalish things and culture with him. "It's important to you, the ring, your culture; I'm glad your Keeper is wise and told you to keep it."  
  
There is still an uneasiness, like Lavellan is holding back something. "Amatus, I've been patient, but I know something is on your mind." Dorian doesn't know what it could be, but it's obvious it's grating on his lover, wearing him out.  
  
Lavellan takes his hand, putting the ring in the center of his palm, and closes his hand. "I want you to have it, Dorian."  
  
He's not expecting that, and he feels like he's going to drop the ring since he's taken aback.  
  
"Amatus, I can't-" he really can't. "I can't accept this. This is a ring for you, of your people and culture. The last person who should be wearing this is a human from Tevinter."  
  
"When you put it that way, you're probably right, but..." Dorian knows when Lavellan trails his voice like that, he's going to say something powerful. " _Ma sa'lath_ , _ma vhenan_ , people give each other rings when it comes to marriage. I only have this one, one that represents where I come from, and it's the only one I could give you to show my commitment towards you." He can feel Lavellan's hand tighten over his closed fist. "You are a part of my new clan here in Skyhold, and you deserve to wear it. I want you to."  
  
Dorian is not prepared to hear something like that come from him. The emotions that those words stir up inside Dorian hit him hard, and it's hard to process it all at once or as quickly as he wants them to. He's kind of let the whole 'married under Mythal' thing go, but apparently Lavellan hasn't, and he's wanted to show his commitment towards Dorian in a way he understands.  
  
He's still not sure how he ended up being with such a great lover, let alone a person, such as Lavellan.  
  
"You're going to make me say something syrupy or embarrassing, and I don't like either of those options, Amatus."  
  
"Marriage is about compromises if I remember correctly." He smirks when he says that, but it's not too long after that Lavellan is kissing him to end the conversation.


End file.
